Pretty Boy
by RosalindHawkins
Summary: When Seitarou comes under attack by one of the supervisors, he can't bring himself to speak up about it. Hajime can tell that somethings wrong, though, and Seitarou won't be able to keep the truth a secret for long. [Warning: Angst, non-con, depression, PTSD, anxiety.] {Ship: Seijime} Please review!
1. I Couldn't Hold A Candle To You

Seitarou was working the graveyard shift immediately following the afternoon shift, and he was exhausted. He'd been doing paperwork all morning in Hajime's office, which was less strenuous than active duty, but it still added to his count of total consecutive hours spent awake.

His newest record was almost forty-two consecutive hours spent awake, but he figured he'd break that record again within a month or two. Working as a guard at Nanba prison was a tough job, but he didn't regret working here.

To be honest, he doubted there was anywhere else for him in the world where he would fit in.

He'd never fit in at school as a child. He was a average at sports, ranging from average to slightly above average in academics, and lacking in any significant social skills. He wasn't charming or smooth, no matter how hard he tried to be, so he was often a loner content with his lot in life. College had proved to be too difficult for him, so after completing two years of it, he dropped out at his cousin's suggestion and applied to be a guard at Nanba prison. It had seemed like a job he was capable of doing, and since he'd been hired, the work wasn't disappointing. Hajime was a mentor and superior that he respected and was fond of, the inmates of building thirteen were interesting, especially those in cell thirteen, and the situation wasn't as grim as he'd expected. If he continued doing good work here, he could probably continue to work here for the rest of his life. The wages could be better, but what they lacked in quantity, they were somewhat compensated for with other benefits, like the various recreational facilities available to the guards.

His love-life wasn't thriving much, but it hadn't been thriving _before_ Nanba prison either. It wasn't that women didn't like him; quite the contrary, it was easy for him to attract at least a few of them anywhere he went. The problem was being able to connect with them once they'd been impressed by his looks. He was awkward, shy, reserved, and he caved to pressure too easily. Women were attracted to him, sure, but they never stayed with him.

At Nanba prison, he had quite a different issue: some of the men were attracted to him, and he turned them down as respectfully as he could, explaining that he didn't swing that way, but they never seemed to leave him alone.

He'd continue to politely turn them down each time they propositioned him, and usually this was enough to deter them.

Usually.

It wasn't until that weary February night that Seitarou ever truly suffered for being a pretty boy.

That night, he was curled up under the thin blanket lining the night duty room's cot, having removed his gloves, boots, jacket, tie, and shirt because it was more comfortable to rest that way, even if he was still cold. So, in undershirt, pants, and socks he tried to steal a few minutes of sleep for himself. Forcing his mind into a lulled state as he listened to the faint white-noise of the prison's nightly sounds.

He'd gotten himself to the point of being merely half-conscious when he heard the door open and a bit of grey light filtered in before the door was closed again. Seitarou was still in the process of rolling over to see who it was when the sickeningly potent scent of tropical perfume washed over him, making him want to gag.

"Supervisor Mitsuba?" Seitarou gasped in surprise as he sat up in bed, acutely uncomfortable. "W-What are you doing here?"

 _And why haven't you turned the light on?_

"Oh, I got bored in my building, decided I'd pay the ever-eccentric building thirteen a late-night visit." His voice was no less flamboyant than it was in broad daylight.

"Is... that even allowed?" the prison guard asked hesitantly, struggling to breathe as the drag queen sat beside him on the bed, uncomfortably close.

"Have you considered my offer, you precious little dumpling?" Mitsuba queried, pinching Seitarou's cheek in an overly affectionate way.

"Yes, and I've decided that I'm _quite_ happy in building thirteen," Seitarou answered with a nervous laugh, but Mitsuba laid a gloved finger over Seitarou's lips.

"Hush now, child."

 _I'm not a child_ , Seitarou thought with annoyance, but his body had frozen in response to Mitsuba's touch.

"Let me show you what you're missing out on."

"Please, don't—" Seitarou's lips were stopped with an unwelcome kiss that tasted much too strongly of sake. He wanted to pull away, but it felt like his body had forgotten how to move.

 _What on earth?_

Fear froze him, so when Mitsuba's tongue flicked between his lips, he shuddered, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't. When Mitsuba pushed Seitarou down on the bed, the blue-haired guard swallowed hard and opened his mouth once more.

"Supervisor, stop." He tried to put force behind his words, but it was hard to do when he was choking on the other's potent perfume. "Stop…" His voice trailed off as Mitsuba's fingers slipped under his waistband.

"No need to be so coy, darling," the bird crooned. "I'll make sure you don't get into any trouble for this."

That was the last thing on Seitarou's mind right now.

"And I locked the door, so we won't get caught either. Just relax~"

Seitarou's body stiffened instead, accidentally making it easier for Mitsuba to roll him over onto his stomach, then begin to position him like he was nothing but a puppet or doll.

"Stop… stop, please," Seitarou pleaded, his voice shaking, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as Mitsuba lifted the guard's rear into the air by his hips, spreading his legs by nudging them with his knees.

He wanted to think of something he could do to stop what was happening, but everything was frozen in his mind too.

 _Wake up! Wake up!_

"You don't need to pretend you don't want this, Seitarou-chan," the supervisor assured with his feminine tones. "Like I said, I'll make sure you don't get in trouble for this, so just relax and enjoy the ride." Mitsuba took hold of Seitarou's waistband once more, pulling his pants and boxers together down to the guard's knees.

"I-I'm not pretend—Ah!" Seitarou's ever-weakening protests were cut off when he felt something foreign suddenly being _shoved_ inside him and _good lord it hurt_. With his free hand, Mitsubi pushed Seitarou's face down into the pillow and hushed him. As Mitsuba squirmed first one dry finger then two inside Seitaro's virgin hole, the young guard started to quietly cry into the pillow. It was also at this time that he started to _turn off_.

* * *

Seitarou woke up with a sticky soreness between his thighs, salty trails dried onto his cheeks, and obviously stained sheets. He lay still for awhile, wanting to just curl up in bed all day…

Wait, he _could_ do that. This was his day off, his first in a while. He just needed to get up and…

If he could only persuade his limbs to move…

Why did he feel like he was forgetting something?


	2. I Have A Really Good Memory

"Lieutenant! Didn't I tell you not five minutes ago to take Number Twenty-Five to receive his medications?"

"Ah, yes, s-sorry, Hajime." The paperwork in Seiratou's hands fell to the surface of his desk as he jumped out of his chair and bowed in apology to his supervisor before scurrying away in the direction of cell thirteen.

He'd been spacing out far too much in the past week, forgetting things, screwing things up, and Hajime was becoming noticeably irritated with him. More so than usual, that is.

How could Seitarou, with his spectacular memory, be forgetting so many things these days? It was frustrating and puzzling for the supervisor of building thirteen, and it was becoming troublesome enough for him to contemplate the possibility of something being wrong.

Because something obviously _was_ wrong with the young man in his charge if he was making such uncharacteristically careless mistakes.

Seitarou hadn't been sleeping well lately, and the dark semi-circles beneath his eyes testified to this truth despite his lies about being perfectly fine.

* * *

After the initial incident, he'd moved through a haze to close out his shift and return home. When he found himself in his small apartment, he couldn't recall how he'd gotten there. Presumably by first taking the light rail, and then...

One moment he was in his small living room, the next he was in the shower, tugging at his hair with his fingers, compulsively combing it out as he let the water flow until it turned cold. Combing his hair had always calmed him, so when he was especially anxious, it was his go-to coping mechanism, like a nervous habit. He managed not to do it while working, partly because he'd been working there long enough now to have control over his habit when he was on-duty. Besides, his job at Nanba Prison and the inmates there only ever made him nervous, not _truly_ anxious for the most part.

But now...

Dressed in his sleep clothes, his signature stars set aside, Seitarou sat on his bed at eight in the morning, dead exhausted, but using a towel to dry his hair and a soft bristle brush to gently brush it through, stroke after stroke as he stared into space and tried to fill the strange void in his mind.

What was he forgetting?

He was forgetting something important...

Why did he hurt so much?

 _Stroke, stroke, stroke..._

Why had Mitsuba's perfume tainted the air of the night duty room when he awoke?

He should put some music on, to soothe his scrambled mind...

Seitarou fell asleep while brushing his hair, sunlight peeking in through the cracks in the blinds, and while he slept, his mind leaked his locked memories to him through dreams.

 _"So beautiful..." a flirty voice whispered into his ear from behind._

 _Searing pain that brought tears to his eyes and made him want to scream. He opened his mouth, but no sound would come out. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't obey._

 _What the hell is going on?_

 _Somebody, help me!_

 _Help!_

Seitarou lurched awake, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding like he'd been running a marathon. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't get a grip. The sounds of choked sobbing filled the room as Seitarou grappled with the fear filling his mind.

 _I can't breathe!_

 _Focus, Seitarou! You've been breathing your whole life, you can do this!_

 _In... out... in... in, in, in—can't—!_

His labored breathing was painful enough to make his eyes water. He choked between hiccuping sobs, scrabbling with bare hands and feet against the bedspread as he fought the overwhelming fear of human contact that his nightmare had left him with.

 _How much longer? I'm starting to feel light-headed, and all this choking is making me nauseous..._

 _Why can't I just make this stop?!_

By the time Seitarou felt like he could breathe again, it felt like he'd been hyperventilating for an eternity. He lay still for a while, just catching his breath and waiting for his stomach to settle. God, he felt miserable. He pulled an extra pillow to his chest with one shaking hand, squeezing it tightly.

 _"Hush now, child."_

 _No!_

 _"You're so tight, I'll bet you never even slipped a finger down here, did you?"_

 _Stop! I don't want this!_

 _"No need to be so coy, darling."_

 _Don't call me that!_

 _"I know you're loving this as much as I am."_

Seitarou hugged the pillow more tightly, trying to make the voices in his head go away.

Somewhere inside his mind, he knew the truth of what had happened. He knew exactly _who_ had done _what_ to him, and he knew _where_ and _when_ too. The rest of his mind simply refused to accept this, preferring to slough off the unpleasantness as a fiction. But his subconscious mind knew the truth, and every time he closed his eyes for sleep, Seitarou was plunged back into nightmares of a body at his back, a voice in his ear, and a weight crushing him into the mattress.

Perhaps it was some kind of hard-wired survival instinct: his subconscious mind was warning him of the dangers a particular individual presented to him, because if Seitarou decided to deny the event, he'd only be putting himself in danger.

* * *

Every night since then, each time Seitarou tried to sleep, nightmares plagued him, disturbing his slumber and keeping him awake while making what little sleep he _did_ manage to get rather unrestorative.

He was getting clumsy at work, spacing out in ways that he couldn't prevent. He simply couldn't stop himself. He was always quick to apologize, quick to explain away his misunderstandings and inattention.

Never did he confess to having an actual lapse in memory, though that was part of the problem he was having.

* * *

"Lieutenant, I need you to hand-deliver these documents to building three for me." Hajime handed Seitarou a sealed envelope across the desk, the younger man accepting it with a nod. "Supervisor Mitsuba is expecting these, so please deliver them to him directly."

"Yes, Supervisor. Right away."

 _Come on, stay focused_ , Seitarou urged himself as he stared at the back of the sealed envelope, which was blank but for the watermark of Nanba Prison. He was so afraid of forgetting what he was doing that before he left the guards' office of building thirteen, he paused at his own desk to write a reminder on a sticky-note of what he needed to do. He pasted it to the back of the envelope, then dutifully set forth on his mission, pushing aside the qualms he had about seeing Supervisor Mitsuba again. Surely the supervisor wouldn't try anything in broad daylight, would he? Besides, if he'd been drinking, then the alcohol had probably influenced the supervisor to do something that he would normally never attempt while sober.

He was safe, Seitarou reminded himself, even as his gloved hands shook.

He was safe here.


	3. It's Like High School All Over Again

"Yamato, don't you think the lieutenant has been acting strangely the past few weeks?" Hajime lit up a new cig as he gazed at the doorframe where Seitarou had so recently disappeared with the envelope for Supervisor Mitsuba.

"Now that you mention it," Yamato answered from the floor where he was doing one-armed push-ups with a compulsive fervor. "He has been more clumsy than usual."

"It's more than just that," Hajime muttered, taking a deep drag before exhaling the smoke. "He's not paying attention anymore. I tell him to do one thing, then ten minutes later, I find him doing something else completely." He sighed, leaning back in his chair as he felt a headache growing behind his eyes. "He used to be so useful, but now..."

"Do you plan to question him on it, sir?" Yamato switched arms for his impressive push-ups.

"Perhaps, if he gets any worse. His mandatory psych eval is next week, so if there's _really_ a problem with him, I trust the shrinks to catch it." Otherwise, he believed that Seitarou would come to him if there was some kind of problem. After all, the blue-haired guard had never hesitated in the past to come to Hajime with any problems he encountered or questions he had.

All of the guards and supervisors of Nanba Prison were subject to biannual psychological evaluations for both the safety of the other employees and the safety of the prisoners. Evaluations took place year-round, and Tanabata's evaluations occurred every March and September. The dates of your evals were determined by the time of year you were hired.

Seitarou Tanabata had been hired as a correctional officer three years ago last September.

* * *

"Lieutenant! Where the hell have you been?!"

Seitarou flinched at the sound of his supervisor's roars.

"It's been almost two and a half hours since I sent you on that errand! It should have only taken a little more than one hours for you two complete it. So, where the _hell_ have you been?" Hajime's eyes were blazing at his subordinate, who quaked before him with fear.

 _Come on, think! You can come up with something!_

"I, uh..."

 _Would he believe me if I told him that I had gotten lost? No, I've worked here too long for that to work! Maybe I caught the wrong train by accident? Would he believe that?_

 _Why not tell him the truth?_

 _That's not an option right now!_

It wouldn't ever be an option...

"I'm waiting," Hajime growled, looking absolutely furious. It was the kind of expression that had brought Seitarou to tears in the past, but not today. Right now, he felt too damn numb to be anything but anxious.

"I caught the wrong train by accident on my way back, and then I had to wait for the next one," Seitarou lied, letting his nervousness play out across his delicate features. Here, it was actually beneficial to show. "I'm really sorry, Supervisor. It won't happen again." He bowed at the waist, a gesture of remorse and respect, but Hajime was still dissatisfied.

Seitarou felt a hand on the top of his head, and he had to swallow a squeal as Hajime forced Seitarou to straighten up with his head back so that he was looking him in the eye.

"I-Is something wrong, Supervisor?" Seitarou stammered as he resisted the urge to reach for his hair. Hajime's face was too close to his, surely he'd see the truth written there in his lieutenant's eyes...

"Look, whatever your deal is, get it figured out." Hajime released Seitarou's head, leaning away from him once more and standing at his full height. "If you can't figure out whatever your problem is, then at least find a way to keep it from interfering with your work." Hajime was being uncharacteristically merciful, but that's only because it was Seitarou: his lieutenant who was normally so eager to learn, eager to please, eager to obey; he who was so candid, do dependable. He wasn't the most competent guard around, but he was the most competent one in building thirteen besides its supervisor. Hajime trusted him, and he'd believed that the trust was mutual.

So why was Seitarou hiding things from him now?

"Yes, Surpervisor," Seitarou murmured, his head bowed in shame but his mind miles away. When he did drag his brain back into focusing on the matter at hand, it was to see Hajime studying him with those angry eyes of his. Before long, Seitarou's mind was wandering again, beyond his normal thoughts and his normal haunts, retreating to a place where he couldn't be hurt.

"Got that, lieutenant?"

"Yes, Supervisor," he answered instantly, even though he had no idea how long he'd zoned out for or what he'd missed. He was starting to get frustrated with himself even, but what hurt more than his current level of self-loathing was the look on Hajime's face.

Disappointment.

Just like his step-father back when he was a teenager, Seitarou couldn't seem to satisfy Hajime either...

 _This really is just like high school all over again... except this time, I get to be part of the horny couple doing oral in the bathroom stall._

He shuddered with disgust to think of his latest encounter with Mitsuba in that way. After all, they weren't a "horny couple" and what they'd done was far from consensual, at least on Seitarou's part.

 _"Open wide, pretty boy. Come on, I know your mouth's bigger than that."_

"Lieutenant!"

"Sorry!" Seitarou started, a bit embarrassed, making his supervisor sigh.

"I _said_ , don't forget that your psych eval is next Tuesday, so be sure to come in early. I don't want you on their time any longer than is necessary."

"Yes, sir," the officer answered as calmly as he could, but on the inside, he was terrified.

A psych eval?

 _Now?_

Was fate really so cruel?

Hajime then sent Seitarou on his rounds, giving the flustered guard the privacy he needed. As he walked down the hallway by himself, he ceased resisting the urge to comb his gloved fingers through his blue hair, the action soothing him slightly, even though it was tainted now.

 _"Careful. Next time you use your teeth, I'll punish you."_

Seitarou could still feel his scalp burning from the vicious hair-pulling Mitsuba had subjected him to.

No more, Seitarou decided.

No more was he going to ignore this threat.

He'd get stronger so he could protect himself.

He'd do better so that he didn't disappoint Hajime.

* * *

"Supervisor Sugoroku."

Hajime turned around when he heard his name being called, recognizing the prison's head psychologist.

"What is it?" Hajime came to a stop, looking mildly annoyed as the psychologist approached him.

"I'm sorry to report that your lieutenant, Seitarou Tanabata, is unfit for duty."

The professional response wasn't all that shocking, but still, it caught him off-guard. He'd known that something was wrong, but he hadn't known it was that bad.

"Can you tell me why?"

"Not without violating doctor-patient confidentiality, no."

 _Grrr. Figures_.

"Can you tell me when I'm going to get him back?"

"You know how it works, Hajime: dangerous guards get let go while troubled guards get up to a month of unpaid leave for recuperation before returning to duty—assuming they pass their follow-up psych eval."

 _Up to a month? That's going to be a pain._

"I _assume_ that means he's in the 'troubled' group, then."

"It does, but I'm sure you could have figured that out for yourself. I've already filled out my part of the paperwork and left it on your desk for you, I just thought I'd come tell you in person."

"Much appreciated," was Hajime's curt response, and with a nod, he turned to resume his trek to cell thirteen.

 _Maybe the job's getting to him. He wouldn't be the first person to get worn down from being a prison guard, and he won't be the last. Still, I had high hopes for him. He was a quick learner, if a bit naive. He had so much potential. Oh well. There's nothing for it but to request a temporary replacement and hope he comes back._

Most guards who were deemed to be "troubled" ended up quitting while on mandatory leave, realizing that they would prefer a career elsewhere. Some of them stayed on, but only a minority of them.

Hajime knew it was futile to hope that Seitarou stayed, but he'd convinced him before to stay despite the difficulty, so maybe he could convince him again.

"Alright, inmates, time to wake up," Hajime called out into cell thirteen. "Number Sixty-Nine?"

"Here," Rock answered with a wave of his hand as he rolled over in bed.

"Number Eleven?"

"You said sixty-nine," Uno answered between snickers.

Hajime rolled his eyes. "Mature as ever. Number Fifteen?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Jyugo muttered from his brooding spot in the corner.

"Number Twenty-Five?"

"Where's Seitarou?" Nico seemed to pop out of nowhere from Hajime's perspective, and the young teenager clung to the bars in the window of their cell's door. "He promised he'd bring me the next volume of Ansatsu Kyoushitsu this morning!"

"Seitarou's not here today," Hajime replied with excessively grumpy tones.

"Aw, when will he be back?" The look of utter disappointment on Nico's face might have swayed a softer heart.

"In two weeks, so until then, you'll have to make do with someone else bringing you your manga."

"Two weeks?" Uno repeated in surprise. "Why? Did something happen to him? He didn't get in trouble for something, did he?"

"That's none of your damn business. I'll be back later to take Twenty-Five to get his medication."

Hajime stalked off like the sourpuss he was, leaving the inmates of cell thirteen in a state of mild befuddlement.

"Seitarou's going to be gone two whole weeks?" Nico looked liked he was on the verge of tears, so Uno gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "But... but... but he promised we'd watch an episode of Love Live! together!"

"How exactly did you plan to do that?" Jyugo asked with his usually apathy.

"And he was going to make me a custom one-of-a-kind Koro-sensei plushie!" Nico continued to whine. Just then, Rock wrapped his thick arms around Nico from behind, having risen from bed while the others weren't looking.

"Calm down, pal, I'm sure he's alright," Rock assured with a smile.

"He hasn't seemed alright, though..." Nico sniffled, his eyes downcast.

"I've got to agree with you there." Uno tapped a thoughtful finger on his chin. "It's not that he's seemed sick, exactly, but he's just been... unwell."

"I hope he gets better soon." Nico sighed heavily, disheartened to consider his new friend in a state of illness.

* * *

Seitarou combed out his hair with lazy hands as he lay on his side on his bed. He'd darkened his room, the shadows feeling more comfortable than the harsh sunlight. He'd been sent home early, and he didn't know what to do with himself aside from try to calm down in whatever way he knew, which meant playing with his hair.

He hadn't even told the psychologist the truth, and he'd still been pulled from active duty. Because he was on mandatory leave and not allowed to work, the prison would be reimbursing his expenses for the next two weeks—the amount of time he'd decided to take off—which was their way of not penalizing him but also their way of encouraging him to do something recreational, something restorative, something that would heal him.

Seitarou didn't have many hobbies, he wasn't close to his family, and he lived alone with only his pet rock and his potted cactus to keep him company. He would've gotten himself a cat by now, except he'd barely have any time to spend with it, so he'd just feel bad for neglecting it all the time.

He'd made an appointment with the psychologist for tomorrow so that they could try to talk through some of his current struggles—the midnight panic attacks, the vivid nightmares, the memory lapses, and such—but Seitarou didn't see how it could help when he was still withholding the most important piece of information from the man. Even so, he knew that he had to do something. His neighbor had started complaining about Seitarou's mid-sleep screams—induced by both the nightmares and the panic attacks, since they tended to be simultaneous—so if he didn't get a handle on things soon, rumors might start to spread, if they hadn't already.

Seitarou rolled onto his other side and starting combing through a new lock of hair, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He was tired, but he didn't want to sleep. He was getting so sick of the cycle: tired all day, try to sleep, wake up in a panic, repeat. And during the "tired all day" stage he was too preoccupied with trying to act like his old self, pretending to be fine, and avoiding Mitsuba at all costs to ever have a moment of true peace. Any moments he might have that would otherwise be peaceful were filled with unwelcome memories.

 _"Your hair is just too beautiful, Tanabata. It makes me want to steal it from you."_

 _Go away!_

 _"Hm, what do we have here? Such a naughty little slut to be so hard from that~"_

 _Shut up! Don't call me that!_

 _"Do you want me to help with that?"_

 _No, stop touching me! Please!_

 _"What's that? I can't hear you."_

"Don't touch me!"

The exclamation burst out of him unexpectedly, and after a moment, Seitarou blinked, looking around his empty room. He hadn't known that he could sound so angry before.

He was starting to scare himself.


End file.
